


Jeeves and the Wounded Heart

by hazeltea (madlovescience)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlovescience/pseuds/hazeltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handsome new member of the Drones invites Bertie to spend the weekend at his country estate. Oblivious to his intentions (and the concept of Greek love in general), though smitten with the man, Bertie happily agrees. Will Jeeves break up this romantic entanglement too, or will he be content to see Bertie happy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Wounded Heart

Jeeves once explained to me that memoirs are often exaggerated for the sake of the reader. The author embroiders a story or two, leaves out unflattering details, and sometimes even changes history in the spirit of telling a good tale. He told me this with the quiet sympathy a mother might use to explain the truth behind Father Christmas to a child that had believed for a few years too long, to save him from embarrassment among his peers. I have to say, I had more faith in people. It’s one thing to tell a white lie at the club for the sake of a good story, it is, in fact, another to write it down and mass publish it as the truth. If there are always two sides to every story, as the fellow says, it seems deceitful to deliberately produce a one-dimensional yarn.

Yet, I realized that I was as guilty as the lot of them. Dear reader, I believe that you may have glimpsed tell tale signs between the lines of my memoirs, though Jeeves censors them with a merciless red pen before they become final. I believe that I maintain enough control over the content to let a suspicion arise that there may be more to Bertram’s life than he does tell you, and in this you are correct. The resentment of the dishonesty of others is why I am writing this chapter, though I know it must never see the light of day. It shall remain under lock and key in a secret place until my death, maybe decades after, if it is ever found. It is an awfully clever place, and it has awfully sturdy locks, besides. So, under the objections of my personal adviser and valet, I take up pen and ink, in the spirit of truth.

It all began one summer, when I left my dear city for New York. Who was it that said that the grass is greener on the other side? It’s a shame that chaps that come up with these things so often go without credit, for no one ever knows who they are when I ask such questions, except for Jeeves, of course. Whoever he was, he must have traveled a good deal, for the dilemma rings true every time I itch to cross the pond.

When I have had my fill of Aunts and various females, with the same old in and outs of the bustling city, and long for a less complicated life, I hop aboard the next ship to New York. There, I can usually remain relatively free of matrimonial prospects and let loose a bit. Lovely place it is, too, a flat, orderly island on the water, surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, trees hundreds of years old, even. When I visit Long Island, it seems to me that it would not be odd to see an Indian or two about the woods. It’s that sort of a place, if you can imagine it. Whenever I arrive in the New World, I think, this is it! What a splendid, majestic, unspoiled land! Still, after a few weeks or months, my beloved New York inevitably begins to seem less and less charming, and I feel the call of civilization once more. I hop onto the next available ship, and home seems once more warm and welcome upon my return.

I had assumed this would always be the case, and I was anxious to resume my ways in London after a rather lengthy visit. I biffed off to the Drones as soon as my suitcases were deposited in the flat, eager to catch up with recent events and the exploits of various friends.  
Upon arriving, I headed straight to the bar, eager for a familiar beverage with less than ten ingredients, which were guaranteed to not include turpentine or petrol in the mix. There is no place like New York to make you appreciate a good, honest drink, I reflected, scanning the room for familiar faces. I brightened as I saw Freddie Widgeon wistfully stirring his drink at the counter.

“What ho, Freddie!” I called gaily, waving as I strode across the room to sit down beside him.  
“Why, Bertie Wooster!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “Where have you been, old bean? It’s been ages!”

“Off to New York, and beyond.” I replied, shaking his hand heartily. “From sea to shining sea, as they say in America, what? You’d never believe what happened. I go all that distance just to get away from the influence of my Aunts, and on the very boat I get a letter from my Aunt Agatha charging me to look after the most reckless blighter you could ever imagine!” I shuddered to myself, and noticed when I’d stopped talking that Freddie didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He was gazing across the room, an amused half grin on his face.

“That’s Charlie Sullivan.” He gestured with his glass, across the room. “He’s new here. Moved into town this summer. Sully’s got a yacht.” He added. “We were all out on it last weekend. He’s a good egg.”

This Charlie Sullivan was an unusual specimen. Tall and broad, he strode across the floor confidently. His hair was a thick brownish-black, and he possessed a ready, easy smile that set off the warmth of his deep brown eyes rather attractively. His choice of suits was striking as well, a sharp number in pale gray set off by a chartreuse tie and pocket square. He took a seat at the bar beside Oofy Prosser. He began to talk, and though I was not close enough to hear the story he was telling, it was obviously a corker. There were jolly guffaws all around. It was easy to see why he was making such a big hit with the others, for he seemed to me the type of cove that was easy to talk to on top of being easy on the eyes.

I stirred my drink, feeling ill at ease. It took me the rest of my whiskey and soda to put a name to the twinge in my chest. I am rather even tempered, and the sensation of jealously, or his slightly more amiable sibling, envy, is not a common visitor to Bertram. However, there it was, there was no denying it. I meekly watched young Sully charm and entertain my friends, who were clearly more interested in the pantomime of his latest game of golf than of any of my adventures in New York over the past two months.

That afternoon, I purchased a dozen silk pocket squares, in the snazzy style of Charlie Sullivan.

************

Jeeves eyed the silken rainbow of squares with a hard eye, his expression changing in various degrees of distaste as he picked through the pile. I knew what was coming, and I braced myself for the inevitable scolding. Screwing up my courage, I took the offensive route. “They came from the Orient.” I said, waving my hand at the squares. “Bold colors and patterns are all the rage right now, Jeeves. Charlie Sullivan has twelve.”

“Mr. Sullivan, the young son of the epidemiologist Charles Winston Sullivan?” he asked, not missing a beat. How he knows these things, I’m never sure.

“Is he, then?” I asked, taken off guard. “Yes, I suppose he is. I mean, he’s one of a kind, so he has to be. You know he did seem frightfully intelligent, Jeeves, I wouldn’t be surprised if eppy- epideme whatsit ran in his blood.” I selected a cheery fuchsia square and folded it into a double point, tucking it into its new cozy home in my pocket. “There.” I said, pleased with the snazz it gave the old jacket. “Perfection.”

“Will you be needing the rest, sir?” he asked, just barely raising an eyebrow.  
“You aren’t thinking of throwing those away!” I cried, aghast, yet putting enough authority in the v. to let him know just how serious I was. “Of course I need them.”  
A small, almost cruel smile threatened to curve at his lips. “Tell me, sir, I’ve always been curious. When you are performing your illusion, how does one tie the squares together without the audience’s knowledge?”

The bally nerve! I was not going to take the bait on this one. “My hat, Jeeves.” I replied, tersely.

“Very good, sir.”

************

I was throwing darts at the Drones when he first approached me, watching me from the bar like you would a prize racehorse. There was a certain gleam in his eye, as if he were appraising me like some old silver. I felt the heat in my cheeks, and my heart leapt with pride as the dart left my hand in an elegant arc. It hit the bull’s eye with purely accidental grace, as I had been rather distracted at the time of its departure.

He whistled in admiration and strode easily to my side. “Bertie Wooster, isn’t it?” he asked, with a smile bright as you like.

“I am.” The smile was infectious as a fever hospital. “Charlie Sullivan, is it?” I asked, an uncharacteristic shyness coming over me.

“It is.” He confirmed, taking my hand in his to shake. It was warm and firm, and just what you’d expect, really. If I’d been red before, I was a tomato in August now.  
“So does yours.” I stammered. “All the chappies here seem to have taken a shine to you in my absence.” Any bitterness I’d felt re: this fact was gone. I was melting quicker than an ice cube on a radiator.

Sully took a handful of darts. “I say, fancy that, traveling like you do overseas. It must be terribly exciting.” He sounded awfully sincere. With that small bit of prodding, I began to recount the past two months with the greatest enthusiasm. Several hours and brandies later I’m quite sure that I’d told Sully so much about myself that, if quizzed, he could pass as a childhood friend.

***********

A curious thing began to occur over the next few weeks, and that is that Sully seemed quite interested in Jeeves, listening intently to my stories and craning his head to catch a glimpse of him whenever he walked me to the club. I had assumed that, having heard of Jeeves’ mental abilities and overall cleverness, he had a problem that needed sorting and was eager to catch him in an undisturbed moment so that he might put his case forward. I was, by then, quite fond of Sully despite our relatively young friendship, so I’d decided to grease the wheels a bit, offering to talk to Jeeves on his behalf for a bit of superior advice.

“Oh, Bertie.” He’d say, with a wistful chuckle and a shake of his head. He never would tell me what seemed to be eating him.

Jeeves, too, seemed to be acting rather odd. He was pointedly quiet, but not in an aggressive sort of way, listening to me talk about my time with Sully and nodding slightly, as though he was taking in a lecture. At first, I had attributed his silences to the fact that for once, there were no impending disasters, and hence less need for his tactful advice. As the days wore on, however, I began to fear that he was more upset about the pocket squares than he’d previously let on. It grieved me to think that Jeeves might be unhappy, but it was important that I not budge once I’d made such a big fuss over the dashed things or I’d lose face and never win one of these battles again.

Summer was drawing to a close by the time Sully invited me to his family home in the country. He’d said something about his father being away, and that he’d want some company. He’d let slip that I was to be the only guest, aside from an Aunt or two that would be keeping his mother busy, and I felt flattered that he’d asked me, and no one else. I accepted his offer with a wide smile, my heart alight with happiness and anticipation. It was rather uncanny, really, but does one question the reason behind a good mood?

Jeeves took the news in stride, as was his custom. I watched him pack my things, even the pocket squares, without having to be reminded lest they “accidentally” remain in the flat. I could tell by the slight purse of his lips that he was still none too fond of them, but he hadn’t been very vocal in his criticism as of late. His quietness seemed to take on an odd, distracted quality, at one moment his glance softening fondly, at other times quite fierce and determined. I never knew what to make of it, and if I asked him what was on his mind, he would weave an impressive web of words that would distract me from the point of asking, and before I knew it I was in the dark again.

There was that look in his eyes again, the confusing mix of steeled nerves and resolve behind the mask, as we approached Sullivan Hall. I worried for my man, and I placed a reassuring hand on his elbow, startling him slightly. “Jeeves,” I asked, concerned enough to be distracted from my elation at spending a weekend alone with Sully, “Are you quite well? You have me so worried, you know.” I gave his elbow a little squeeze to show my support.

He drew in a small breath, sharply, and looked down on me with those ice blue eyes, which reflected things of such intellect I knew I hadn’t a prayer of understanding. Still, one must always try. “It is nothing to concern you with, sir.” He said, and I was dashed annoyed when Sully’s servants arrived and took him away from me before I was done pressing him.

“Why, Bertie!” Sully’s voice carried across the hall as he ran to meet me. The happiness I felt at seeing him took the edge off my worry for Jeeves. Later, Bertram, I promised myself. I’ll see to Jeeves later. He’ll be fine without you.

Sullivan Hall was pleasant enough until the East Wing, which was littered with oddities that would be right at home in a horror novel. I jumped as I rounded a corner and came face to face with a human skeleton, standing upright with its hands splayed outwards and its jaw set in a mocking grin, its hollow eye sockets level with my own. Sully braced me from behind, and emitted a soft chuckle into my ear. “That’s just Arthur.” He said, and a chill raced up my spine. “Father collects medical artifacts.”

The fact that it had a name made me uneasy. Had Doctor Sullivan named the skeleton out of an off color sense of humor, or was that the man’s name to start with? For that matter, where did he get the bally thing? I’ve never seen a shop proclaiming “skeletons and assorted organs for sale.” Had he treated Arthur when he was flesh and blood? It made me shudder to think of the possibilities, each more dreadful than the last.

About that time, I realized my proximity to the other man, and my heart settled from a terrified pounding to a softer, more erratic pulse that was nevertheless disconcerting, if that is the word I want. I turned about to face him, still entwined in his grasp. His body was warm and comforting, and I decided to not break the contact until he did. In that moment, he looked down on me, and as I was admiring the suaveness of his features, like Gary Cooper and Rudolph Valentino combined, he very gently, and very unexpectedly, I might add- pressed his lips to mine.

My eyes widened in surprise and confusion. I’d heard of men who kiss other men, and what I’d heard said about them was very scornful indeed. I’d always imagined those men to be as wicked and disgusting as they’d been described. They were certainly nothing like Sully. So why, then, was Sully pulling me close, and stroking my hair? And why was I not stopping him? It was with some guilt that I leaned forward, and let him lay claim to my lips again. He was murmuring something, some drivel about my eyes being as blue as a summer sky, the sort of thing that would repel me from a girl’s lips. Not so from Sully. I was appalled at the discovery that I was enjoying this as much as the fact that Sully was, too. When the bell rang to summon the servants to the dining hall, he let me go, with a sigh of regret.

“I’d like to be with you here, tomorrow.” He said, his voice deep and breathless. “The East wing will be deserted."

I nodded, numbly, and spent all of the evening meal wondering how on earth I was ever going to make sense of what was happening. My worry continued throughout the evening. I wanted desperately to discuss my dilemma with Jeeves, but the thought of him judging me was enough to keep me mum. He might start to notice how much I enjoyed it when he brushed against me when I was dressing, or when he’d tuck me into bed at night. I had always thought this pleasure was completely innocent and chummy, but the afternoon’s events had made me examine myself in an entirely different light, a sinister one that exposed ulterior motives that I hadn’t the foggiest idea that I had.

“Sir.” He said, shimmering into my vision and pressing a brandy into my palm, “Might I ask a small boon of you?”

“Anything, old thing.” I responded, feeling that I owed him at least something for my continued deception.

“I have an errand to run in town tomorrow morning.” He replied. “A delicate matter concerning a loved one.”

I nodded, thinking of the myriad of Aunts that Jeeves often visited. Any relative of his is worthy of the utmost respect and attention in my eyes. I would have let him go even if I hadn’t been a little worried about explaining my time with Sully to him tomorrow.

“See to it, Jeeves.” I replied, sipping my drink gratefully.

“Thank you, sir. You are a most generous soul.”

************

Jeeves was gone when I awoke, having left a pot of tea and a small tray by my bedside. I drank it as I dressed; noting the hour was late and I had likely missed the morning meal.

I selected a periwinkle pocket square, remembering how Jeeves had told me time and again that my blue-ticked ties brought out the color of my eyes and complimented my complexion. No amount of preening could dispel my nervousness though, as I anticipated the idle hours I’d spend in the East Wing with Sully, our bodies pressed close and his lips on mine.

I was burning with such nervous energy that I walked a good deal about the grounds before midday, when I approached the East Wing with some trepidation. I wasn’t too keen on walking the somber corridors alone, when at any moment a corpse or dreadful creature might spring itself on me by bookcase or doorknob. Still, I went, remembering that I wouldn’t be alone once I got there, and furthermore remembering the lovely French doors behind Doctor Sullivan’s desk that opened into the garden, giving both a comforting source of sunlight and an open escape route from experiments gone mad.

I needn’t have worried about being alone, though, since Sully was already in the East Wing’s office. He rose from his seat behind the mammoth mahogany desk and grinned. “About time, sleepy head.” He chuckled.

I trotted eagerly to his side. “I’m glad that you’re here.” I replied. “I was hoping that we wouldn’t have to meet in the room with Arthur.” I admired the comfortable study, which, although crammed with books and glass cases containing smaller vials and glass dishes for purposes I didn’t understand, at least didn’t seem to have a ghastly appearance like the skeleton. I was surprised, but utterly relieved, that the paperweight on the blotter wasn’t someone’s old kidney or something. I opened the glass case nearest and peered in, reaching for a glass dish labeled with a red tag.

“Don’t touch that.” Sully warned. “Those are Father’s specimens.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Diseases.” He clarified.

I shut the door with a yelp, wiping my palms on my coat in hopes that any microscopic killer would get the hint and hit the road. In retrospect, I’d rather have spent the afternoon with Arthur!

Sully seemed to find this highly amusing, and I glared at him. “Is there any place in this house that’s completely safe and free of oddities?” I asked.

“There is.” He affirmed, as he placed his hands on my hips and backed me slowly against the desk. “Although your curiosity is endlessly endearing…”

He began to nip at my ear, which felt much better than you would think. Absolutely topping, in fact. His hands began to wander, loosening my tie and down the front of my shirt, pressing me against the blotter, coming to straddle the length of my body. I gasped, not expecting his body on mine to be quite so heavy. It wasn’t unpleasant though, quite thrilling, actually; a substantial weight pinning me down as he covered me in frenzied kisses.

There was clear evidence of his need, and it matched my own. The only thing is, I have never had another person so physically aware of what had always been, to me, a private matter. I had no idea how one was supposed to react in circs. such as these, when the body overrules the mind, and so I was relieved when Sully took the decision from me, by gathering my wrists in his hand and pushing me farther onto the desk.

Suddenly, a number of things occurred, and I cannot say for certain which order they went. Sully let out a yell and threw me back, so that the back of my skull came into contact with an incredibly hard substance that I assume to be antique mahogany. There were voices. An older man’s voice, and a more familiar tone. The older man asked something along the lines of what the blazes did we think we were doing, and sputtered some unintelligible nonsense. Sully had by then, let go of my wrists, and was pale as a sheet.

The older gentleman, whom I subsequently learned was the good doctor Sullivan, had returned to his home upon receiving a telegram from a fellow researcher, and was now shaking with rage at having found his son and a stranger in a compromised position in his office. I can’t say that I blamed him. I was about to open my mouth to say something; though I’m not certain that anything I had to say on the issue would improve matters any; when I was saved by the second, most beloved voice.

“Ah, you’ve apprehended him, Mr. Sullivan, sir. I am so relieved.” Jeeves strode to my side and placed his hands squarely on my shoulders, guiding me to the side of the room. “I am terribly sorry, Doctor Sullivan. He has these … episodes… every so often. It was my charge to look after him, and I am afraid that I was less than attentive in my duties. Please accept my apologies on behalf of his family; it would embarrass them greatly to know that he’d made a scene while a guest here.”

Doctor Sullivan looked confused, and then greatly relieved and perhaps a bit shamed. “I see.” He said, and then, gathering up some of the old steam behind the engine, gestured at the door of the glass case that had come unhinged during the struggle. “What was he doing, having fits near my work? He could have killed the lot of us. Start a new black death! Charles, you should have known that this study is off limits to guests.” He gave his son a withering look, as Sully began to slink back towards the door in fear.

“Mr. Wooster is prone to wander during his episodes.” Jeeves said, somberly. “Your son was merely preventing him from becoming entangled in your collection of specimens.”

“I see.” Doctor Sullivan said, looking more than a bit frazzled and red in the face. “All the same, I think it would be best to pack your bags and deliver the young man to the care of his family.”

“Very good, sir.” Jeeves replied, and that was that.

So, shortly after, the bags were indeed packed. There was only one thing left for me to do, and that was to say my goodbye. I found Sully in his room, sitting pensively on the edge of the window seat. He looked up and heaved a small sigh, not seeming particularly surprised to see me.

“I’m sorry, Bertie. You really should go.” He said, looking genuinely regretful.  
I nodded. It wasn’t the first time that I had made myself an unwelcome guest, and I assured him that it was no water off my back, and that I should have a drink with him at the Drones as soon as he returned to the metrop.

He shook his head. “We were careless, Bertie. People would talk after awhile. It’s best that we go our own ways for now.”

I was greatly wounded by this, and decided that he needed some bucking up. “No one knows a thing. They’ll think I’m a thief, or a homicidal, disease unleashing madman, or both. The truth is far less interesting.” I tried.

“The truth,” Sully said pointedly, “Is something that can mark us for life, Bertie. It can bankrupt you. It can make you lose your friends. It can make you lose your family. It can send you to prison. I was reckless, thinking it’d be a sure thing with my father gone. I was wrong to be so careless. I was wrong to put you in danger as well. This could have been a disaster.”

“But…” Everything Sully has said was right on the mark. It was just so bally unfair. “But… love is worth risking everything. Everyone knows that.”

“I’m sorry.” Sully said, not meeting my eyes. “You’re just not worth it, Bertie.”

“Ah.” I managed, as the world crumbled down about me, cumulating with the withering of my internal organs. “I… I understand.” And I really, really did. It was just so dashed unfair. I nodded a goodbye to him, and hurried from the room.

I’ve never been keen on the idea of marriage, although it’s not an idea that I had ruled out entirely. I was once told by a hotheaded girl to whom I’d been briefly engaged that I had a Peter Pan complex. I’d laughed at the time, but I suppose there might be something to it, given how often my Aunt Agatha has bemoaned my supposed irresponsibility re: my reluctance to settle down. Getting married was always something I’d intended to get around to someday, a bit like other whims like having a ride in a hot air balloon.

No matter how many times I had expressed my relief and delight in escaping the clutches of a multitude of brides-to-be, I did have to admit that matrimony served a certain sort of purpose in a man’s life. If one lives alone throughout his life, there is a very real danger that he may become stubbornly stuck in his ways and not notice that he has become what polite society terms an eccentric, unaware that his fondness for collecting pens or locomotives or what have you has become noticeably out of hand. A vision of my future self arose before me. “Oh, that’s just old Bertie Wooster.” people might say with a jolly chuckle. “He’s harmless. Comes down here every Tuesday for his tea, dressed to the nines. They say he has a pocket square for every day of the year.”

I shuddered. There was no saving me now. Before Sully, I’d thought I’d work it all out in due time, but he’d taken that from me. I knew what I was now, and quipping that I was one of Nature’s Bachelors had taken on a sinister feeling now that I knew that no matter how many girls I found myself mixed up with, it wasn’t just a matter of trial and error anymore. None of them would ever make me happy. And the law! It’s dashed suiting, I thought, that I wound up being a common criminal after all. I’m always the last one to know these things. Frustrated, I ripped the periwinkle pocket square from my breast and flung it into the bin beside the desk.  
Jeeves appeared beside me, and offered me my hat and gloves. “We should return home, sir.” He said, simply, not inquiring about the redness of my eyes. For that I was grateful. If Jeeves hadn’t steered me to the two-seater and driven me home, I think I would have stayed glued to the spot for days, wallowing in my misery.

************

“It was you, wasn’t it, Jeeves.” I said, as he brought the comforting evening elixir to me in the sitting room later that night. “You sent the telegram, didn’t you? ” My voice was flat, unable to muster any emotion from my shell-shocked state.

His finely chiseled features softened for a moment, and I caught a flicker of what could be remorse across his face, before stony resolve reinforced itself. “I consider it my duty to ensure both your continued safety and happiness.” He said, in a soft yet confident voice. Even if happiness came last, the words went unsaid. Jeeves knew what was best for me. It was clear that he was sure of it, and before this afternoon, I had always been sure of it as well.

I nodded, numbly, surprised that the feeling came from within, and not just the drink within my stomach, either. “I see.” I answered, my voice a very small thing. I wasn’t surprised; it was exactly the sort of thing that Jeeves would do. By all accounts, I should be steaming, but how could I be, when he had likely saved me from a lifetime of disgrace and a possible prison sentence? It was now quite clear that Sully would have given me the boot eventually, after all, and it was the loss of him that tore me up, but that was hardly Jeeves’ fault. Jeeves had merely been testing Sully’s devotion and discreetness, and Sully hadn’t passed. My resentment deflated, and I looked to him with bleary eyes.

“You’re right.” I declared, draining the last of the cocktail. “You’re always right.” I set the glass down, and looked downwards, pretending to examine the toe of my shoe. “Jeeves, I hope, that is to say… I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of…” at that point the old bean caught up with my mouth and advised that it was going about it all wrong. I shut my mouth. “Never mind that, I am a perverted sod. You have the right to think whatever you want about me; it’ll probably be more charitable that way.” The words were blunt, expressing the worst of my fears, that Jeeves would judge me in the harshest way possible. I felt it best to prepare for the worst, given the current state of affairs.

“Sir…” his voice was strained with sympathy.

I held up my hand, needing to silence him so that I could speak before I lost my nerve.  
“What I mean to say, is that, well… thank you. For keeping my secret, I mean, and even covering up for Sully.”

“Your best interests were at the forefront of my actions.” He said, refilling my glass. I swallowed the contents down swiftly. “The young man may be impetuous, but he doesn’t deserve social ruin.”

“It’s still jolly good of you.” I added, wondering if I’d be able to muster the courage to ask him the question that was making me feel sick inside. I wanted to know if he would stay, but I couldn’t think of a way to ask. No one would blame him if he didn’t want to work for someone of my vices, but asking him outright would be a challenge to his feudal spirit, and professional pride would oblige him to stay if I asked it of him.

He drew himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with me for a brief moment. “It is unseemly to betray your own kind."

That instant was enough to make me forget my own woes and gape in astonishment. “By Jove!” I exclaimed. “You, Jeeves?” Surely not!” The idea was absurd! I mean, Jeeves is perfect. He’s smart, and strong, and never makes an ass of himself; therefore, people like him, especially the sort of people that don’t approve of lowlifes and perverts.

I felt the weight of his words rest squarely, securely, and comfortably on my shoulders. Perhaps because he’d discovered my secret, he’d set to make things right by telling me his own. Knowing my secret, something that could be my undoing, and not only was he so dashed feudal to protect me, but to offer his own confession to me, demonstrating the extent of his trust in me- well. I felt honored, I suppose.

A sobering thought came over me. “How do you do it, Jeeves?” I asked, the momentary warm glow draining from my soul.  
“Sir?”  
“I mean, how do you live knowing that you’ll always be alone…”

“I have a great many friends.” He began, adding, “ Forgive my assumptions, sir, but the bachelor life is not something which you were previously adverse to.”

“But I had you.” I replied, shyly. My eyes flitted back and forth, unable to meet his for very long.

The corners of his lips quirked just a bit, in that rare way that has always delighted me; other than the times that it was at my own expense, of course. Taking those instances out, it was a quite rare expression indeed. “You shall always have me, sir.” He said, and his voice was so reassuring.

“So you won’t want to leave, even if people talk?” I asked, relieved. This small assurance had bucked me up more than you could imagine.

“I find that it is best to temper one’s true nature with a moderate sense of tact.” He said, quietly. “I shall endeavor to protect you, to the best of my ability.”

“I suppose it is the tie that binds, as you say.” I whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I sometimes feel that it’s the other way around, sir.” Jeeves murmured. “You forgive too easily. Both of us, in one day. Yours is an uncorrupted heart, although it has known much pain.”

I was used to such observations; people have often told me that I was in pain, having lost my parents at such a tender age. I didn’t quite see it myself. Of course, one doesn’t wish for a life without parents, but it felt quite ordinary to me by now. The pity was often piled upon me by various girls, who seemed to find tragedy incredibly romantic. Jeeves had never mentioned it though, and I appreciated his sympathy on subjects that were truly horrible, like finding yourself engaged to Madeline Bassett or Honoria Glossop. For him to express remorse at my loss of Sully meant a lot to me, it meant that he understood how deeply I was wounded. If Jeeves, of all people, didn’t understand me I would have felt frightfully lost and alone.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He managed, for once looking unsure of what he was going to say next. “I only acted knowing that to hurt you now would spare you pain and terrible consequences later.”

“Jeeves…” I sighed. “You aren’t the one that hurt me.”

“You would think that, sir.”

I shook my head, not wanting him to pity me. I wanted him to think that I was strong. I wanted him to think highly of me. No matter what happened, if Jeeves stayed with me and continued to see me as someone worth serving, I could manage.

He continued, lowering his eyes, in that way that he does when he wants to show me a bit of respect or privacy. “I meant to look after you, and found you in tears. I must admit that I’d never seen you in such a state and the fact that I had helped speed the process, and that I could not easily reverse the consequences, left me with no small measure of grief.”

A small lump of shame in my throat grew, and swallowing it produced a small whimper.

I felt his fingers brush the side of my cheek, and rest under my chin, tilting it up so that I looked him in the eye. “I don’t wish to see you in such a state again. Sir…” and here, he took a deep, shaking breath, “it would please me greatly if you’d allow me to look after you always, in every way.” He said, and his voice wasn’t as sure as it should have been. He had a certain look in his eyes, one that implied such serious things.

It took a moment for my mind to absorb this. “Are you asking me…” I found that I couldn’t put my rising hope into words. Jeeves, my man. My companion through thick and thin. My protector, my friend. The thought- the possibility that I had never considered until just then- that I might wade into deeper waters left me breathless. You must understand, I depend on him in all ways. Our flat, that shared space of domestic bliss, is my rock, his company my happiness. Introducing a third party into my life had always proved to be troublesome; impossible, I might say, but this revelation had cleared it all up in my mind. Adding another person to my life had always been a bit like forcing a piece of a jigsaw puzzle to fit where it didn’t belong, so that you might wind up with a bit of sky in the middle of a cottage door, and all the pieces affected bent and out of place. It was obvious to me now that I already had all of the pieces that I needed, and I could clearly see what needed to be done in order to complete the scenic view.

“I am asking you, sir, to consider … an understanding between us.” He clarified, almost visibly unnerved by putting his want into dreadfully proper words. Once more, he lowered his eyes, but I had seen the worry in his expression.

Did he think that I would refuse?

With a laugh, I gave my consent by twining my arms about his neck and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. Startled and nearly thrown off his feet by my enthusiasm at first, he quickly and gracefully recovered his balance, wrapping his arms around me and returning my affections passionately. A jolt of excitement passed through me as I leaned into him, my senses flooded with his scent, his taste, the warmth of his body pressed against me as his pulse raced as quickly as my own. I knew then that this was right, no matter what anyone else might think. Maybe it had to be a secret, but it was everything that I could ever want. Caught up in his arms, stronger and safer than Sully’s, a great wave of contentment washed over me; a feeling that I had at last found my place in the world. Jeeves would look after me, of course. I trusted him impeccably.


End file.
